A Brilliant Adventure
by Kidnapkid
Summary: Double the Bowie, Double the fun. Discontinued due to lack of hits. Visit and I could pick it back up.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue: There's Something in the Air

Wishes, wishing, wishers, few people know their true power. A young girl perhaps, innocent, naive, and stubborn, or about five thousand screaming fan-girls who call themselves, "The Ladies of the Labyrinth." Yes, they knew all about wishes, the darkest depths of desire. They knew the importance of "Saying your right words." Those Ladies thought they knew them, and they wished, squeezing eyes shut, holding their breaths, collectively they made a wish. Over and over five thousand voices called out:

"I wish... I wish... I wish David Bowie would do a sequel to Labyrinth!"

"D'you hear that?" Skoat whispered.

"Oh, it's horrible!" Pilch shouted over the din.

"What is it?" Bubel added.

"Wishes! Lots and lots of wishes!" Bezel answered.

"What is this rubbish? It's the just same thing over and over." Skoat spat.

"What's it say?" Bubel asked mildly.

"Shut up Lads. We've got work to do." Bezel told them all.

And with a little Goblin magic, a little, tiny, imagination, and a whole lot of glitter the Ladies of the Labyrinth got their wish. Well, sort of...

Disclaimer: Written not for profit and all in good fun. I own neither the Labyrinth, Goblins, Young Ones, David Bowie or any of the numerous quotes/ song quotes in this work. I would also like to add that David Bowie is a fictional character played by Mr. David Robert Hayward Jones, and as such an apropos subject for a fan fiction. Especially for one so obviously under grounded in unreality.

With out further ado I give you:

**A Brilliant Adventure**

A Griffin Quest Production

Written by Kidnapkid

Edited by Ginger Bedlam


	2. Chapter 2

**A Brilliant Adventure**

A Griffin Quest Production

Written by Kidnapkid

Edited by Ginger Bedlam

Part the First: Unwashed and Somewhat Slightly Dazed

David woke with a bee in his brain; buzzing and bumping around in his cranium. He stifled a groan and rolled over, vaguely noticing the velvety plushness of the thick blanket beneath him. "Everything's alright." He muttered to himself, trying to calm the buzzing in his brain, and trying to remember what he was did the night before to give him such a raging hangover. Slowly he cracked open his normal eye, a deep rich navy blue that seemed to sparkle dully swirled into view. He pushed himself up a bit opening his other dilated eye. "I can't explain this." He said nervously to himself.

He was on a massive four poster bed complete with curtains drawn, a dark blue velvet duvet completely covered in glitter lying beneath him. Looking down at himself he realized that it wasn't just the bed that was covered in glitter, he himself was also copiously doused. His dark trousers absolutely sparkled in a myriad of tiny coloured specks of light. He brushed his hand against his white button up shirt, it came away sparkly. The abundance of the gritty sparkly stuffs pulled a chord deep within his brain, like a forgotten memory. 'When was the last time he had seem so much glitter.'

"I've had enough of this." He muttered as he rolled to a sitting position and drew close to the curtains obscuring his view of everything save the bed. A nervous trembling hand pushed at the heavy drapery. A few seconds of searching revealed a thin beam of bright, vaguely orange, light that slipped into the shaded recess. David jerked open fabric, and his eyes were dazzled with more twinkling specks as the light grew in intensity.

"Oh, no, don't say it's true!" He choked nervously, gulping down his surprise. Though his brain was deep in shock, subconsciously he knew exactly where he was, for as he had exposed his immediate surroundings the first thing to capture his complete attention was the spectacular view from a large bay window. "The Labyrinth." He whispered, mesmerized. He was fond of the movie he had made in eighty-six. He had even watched it with his little Lexi a few days ago, she was ten and loved to watch her daddy sing in his funny wig. And indeed, stretching out as far as the eye could see was a massive labyrinth of twisting stone walls, green hedgerows, and dark forests. The light streaming in through the window was a faded golden colour, like the land was caught in eternal sunset, except there was no sun visible in the pale peach sky.

"This can't be happening, I'm down in the Underground! I'm absolutely going to kill Brian for this!" He muttered angrily as he pushed himself out of the bed. Swinging a bit unsteadily to his feet, he realized that he wasn't wearing shoes when when his socked feet came into contact with a plush rug. He was, of course, in a bed chamber. Everything in the room seemed twice the size of furniture in it's natural state. Bookshelves and scroll cases reached up from the floor to scrape their decorated pommel tops against the stone ceiling, a massive wardrobe dominated a wall near the biggest vanity with bench David had ever seen. There were expensive looking carpets layering the floor and several grotesque tapestries hung from the stone walls. Various scenes of everyday goblin life were being played out in the colourful hangings. Their horrid faces learning down larger, much larger, than life. To his untrained eye even a harmless goblin game of 'Chuck the Chicken' looked demonic and dripping with menace. David tore his gaze away from the ludicrous image and looked more closely at a large desk. The slab of oak was large enough to be a dinner table, ornately carved claw feet clutched spheres tightly on the floor, and each 'corner' had a distinctly rounded appearance. Maps, charcoal, penciled, ink, chicken feathers, sketches, papers, doodles, musings, ramblings, comic art, and goblin likenesses littered the surface in a distracted manor, weighted down by a few crystal balls, some on stands and several not, as if someone had left in a hurry with out tidying up. The room felt oppressive, domineering, and yet well lived in all at the same time.

Thinking about shoes and vainly trying to brush glitter off himself he strolled over to the wardrobe and pulled it open. More shimmering rays of light assaulted his eyes. "All my costumes!" Somehow he wasn't really surprised. Digging through the hanging finery he began pulling out clothing at random just looking at each outfit. A more casual getup's he had worn during the filming of the movie, An off-white poets shirt with a black velvet vest and light grey leggings. "How they ever talked me into these tights I'll never know." He mussed, "Though, I suppose I have worn considerably less." He added as an after thought. "Look at this," He said to no one in particular, "Velvet vest, tights, velvet shirt, fluffy poets shirt, velvet-tights. I don't remember this stuff being so glittery." Another tugs deep within his brain made him pause for a fraction of a second before he continued examining the content of a wardrobe large enough to house a whole family of goblins. "Oh, a leather jacket, that's a surprise. and... 'Ang on, this one's not half bad, I don't remember this one." He pulled out a softly brushed velvet waist coat, blacker than soot. Woven into the deep depth of the dark fabric were a myriad of shining specks of star light. David's hands caressed the soft material. It's sole ornamentation, aside from it's fabulous cut and accentuated cuffs, was a silver spider pinned to the shoulder with two red ruby eyes. He marveled at the way the dark velvet seemed to both capture and repel the glitter. he suddenly wanted very much to put the jacket on. It felt warm and pleasant in his arms. If adrenaline hadn't been speeding its way through his system, he may have noticed the faint tingling sensation traveling from his hands up his arms.

He looked behind himself and spied a table and chair combo not far away, he tossed the jacket on the chair and returned to the wardrobe. Pushing the clothing aside he saw what he was originally looking for, several pairs of knee-high boots. "I forgot they all have heels! God, it's been years since I've worn heels." He looked through them selecting on a black pair that only seemed to have a two inch heel. Sitting on the same near by chair, he hiked the legs of his trousers up to his knees, laced on the boots, and then let his pants settle back over them. He felt slightly ridiculous being covered in glitter with the pointy toes of those boots poking out from the sober hemline of his pants. "The glitter, something... familiar..."

Stepping carefully, trying to readjust to the footwear he made his way to the vanity mirror to assess his damage. He didn't immediately notice the change in himself, the first thing he focused on was just how silly his shoes were, deciding, after a moment, that they actually didn't look that bad. A bit retro, something he wouldn't have minded in the eighty's at all. The glitter he was somewhat less enthusiastic about. It clung on with the strength of static and he was unusually troubled by it's presence. As he bent to brush the legs of his trousers he finally caught the sight of his face in the mirror, and his hand froze in mid brush.

"It can't really be Me! I'm deranged!" He absolutely shouted at the mirror. for the first time since he woke real fear was reflected in the perfect panes of his sculpted face, the pupil in his one eye shrank and danced about madly as he looked at himself. David brought his hand slowly to his face, watching the movement with horror in the reflection of the mirror. His skin was lacking the wrinkles he was just beginning to get used to. His alabaster hands traced the sides of his cheek, exploring the path where his laugh lines had been, feeling smooth elastic skin beneath his long tapered fingers, it even felt as though he had recently shaved. The crows feet that had grown in ever increasing numbers around his eyes, charming though they were, had disappeared utterly. He looked to himself to be about forty years younger than he had the last time he looked in a mirror. His features had thinned considerably, his nose more prominent than it had been in years, since his cheeks had filled out a bit in the last decade. He could see those cheek bones again, and for a moment they mesmerized him. His hair was fairly short but long enough to fall in his face in layers, honey blond and shimmering with absolutely amazing highlights, and glitter. Except for the way his clothes were hanging off him awkwardly he looked every bit the rock star he was in his prime, something of the Thin White Duke he had been.

David wrenched his gaze away from the mirror, forcing and twisting his whole body to escape the image. His feet staggered back and he nearly fell to the carpet. His whole body suddenly felt like a numb alien thing, like a shirt a person only wears, it can not feel. With perfectly smooth fingers he ripped at the buttons of his shirt madly trying to see to look. His mind screaming that maybe the changes were only in the mirror, some kind of magic trick. He could tell even before he bared his chest, but he had to see anyway. Taking in the sight of himself, his torso was lean, slightly muscled, and pale. He ran his hand across his chest, blond fuzz barely noticeable catching smudges of glitter. "The Glitter!" He screamed in terror. A loud gurgling soulless wail choked up and out of his throat. He sank to his knees as all the oxygen was forced from his lungs by contractions of his mighty diaphragm. The wail only subsiding as he sank to the carpet, unable to support himself through the shock. He was trembling, feeling like his mind was trying to crawl out of his skin. Flashing, panicked, thought swirled like a mist through his battered senses. Slowly as his breathing deepened and his heartbeat mellowed the panicked terrors began to transform themselves into something a little more like coherent thought. He could in fact feel his skin he realized, feel the slightly scratchy texture of the rug against his face. He wasn't actually trapped in cold numbness, or dead flesh.

"Breathe... Breathe... Breathe deeply." He chanted in a soft voice, puffing in and out in sporadic intervals as he fought himself for control of his senses. Tears were running unchecked down his face, and he was hoping desperately to wake up. Only, it felt very much like he already was awake, and lying in a fetal position on what surely was, a cold stone floor (even if it was covered by a rather nice rug.) His throat hurt, and he realized he had been sobbing and making incoherent keening noises for quite a few minuets.

As it happens in the Labyrinth, sometimes when you think you've finally got things figured out, you realize, that you don't. Poor David was just beginning to ponder, that maybe the floor wasn't exactly the best place to be, and that maybe getting up and dusting himself off a bit more would put things in a little more perspective when another rather odd thing happened. He heard his own voice softly call his name.

"Excuse me, Mr. Bowie?"

Stifling another moan, David squeezed his eyes shut. Pretending to be deaf he held his breath.

"I do realize that we're in an awkward predicament, but if you want to go home, I'm afraid you're going to have to listen to me. Even if I do sound like you." The voice stated, ending in a huff.

"Home?" David whispered. "Lexi and Iman!" He cried suddenly! His smiling family flashing through his brain. "Where ARE they!" He shouted, still refusing to open his eyes.

"Calm down." He heard himself say. "They're right where you left them. They probably don't even know you're gone. Time works differently here. Seconds to your world last hours here."

"Where am I?" David asked, dreading the answer.

"You know very well where you are. You're in my Labyrinth. And you're made quite the mess of things, I might add."

David turned his face towards his voice, took a deep breath to brace himself, and opened his eyes. From his vantage point on the floor he looked up at the vanity mirror resting on its table a few feet away. It no longer reflected his image per-say but the being inhabiting it's glassy surface was David's double in every physical way, save his hair, make up, and clothing.

"You...You're the Goblin King." David gasped. "But... I'm the Goblin King. This is a dream. I'm dreaming my life." David responded, somewhat slightly dazed.

"Yes, well, that's partly right. I am you, or rather you're me. If I've got it figured out right, we're the same being inhabiting parallel dimensions. But as for being a Dreamer, well, that's someone elses domain, you're very much awake."

"What?"

"We're honestly a lot a like. In you're world you're a legendary music icon, with legions of fans, considered somewhat of a rebel yet also and touted by millions as a permanent figure of your worlds history of music. You're influential and a visionary. In my world I'm a legendary rebel King, with legions of worshiping goblins, who look to me as their leader. (And thanks to your movie some human fans as well.) The Labyrinth itself is influenced and powered by my imagination."

"How? How did I get here? You seem to have all the answers?"

"That's simple. Magic. You were wished away by thousands of our very own fans, who have somehow managed to break the fourth wall. The stranger thing is, we can't seem to coexist in the same realm. Which would appear to be the reason I've been stuck in this bloody mirror. The sooner we get you out of here the better. The Labyrinth is connected to Me and I'm worried about how it might react to You."

David was still freaked out beyond measure to be having a conversation with himself, but felt a tiny bit more calm, or at least open minded, especially since he wanted himself out of the Labyrinth, which were his thoughts exactly. He raised himself to his knees, then stood, walked a few feet to the chair and sat down again. He looked across the way at the projection in the mirror. Jareth was everything he remembered himself to be. Proud, regal, with a sneer of righteous derision. His light blond hair fell around his face and neck in wispy tendrils. He was wearing what David remembered as 'his owl costume' the light, diaphanous, strands of fabric blending with his hair making him appear to glow as if in an aura of light. Ash white breeches clung in a loving flashing around his hips and *cough* thighs, till his knees disappeared beneath the edge of the mirror. David had no trouble imagining him in soft, light grey boots.

"Feeling better?" Jareth asked cocking his head to the side.

"I'm busting up my brains for the words, but all I can come up with is... This is completely insane! I'm... I'm a young man again! What the Hell did you do to me? How is this possible? None of this is bloody possible!"

"Yes well, no need to start another snit. I didn't do anything to you. Magic is not always predictable. Your appearance probably has something to do with the magic it took to break the fourth wall and bring you here. Our fan's don't want Mr. Geriatric Bowie teaching chess to goblins. They want you to wear my coat and run the Labyrinth in style."

"Hold on, 'Run the Labyrinth'? You mean, navigate the maze?" David gulped audibly.

"Cor, 'Navigate the Maze' he says." Jareth, King of the Goblins, then pulled quite the stunning facial expression, which rather resembled the same look a goblin would receive after it had just done something very clever. He rolled his eyes back into his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose thoughtfully. "Of course you have to 'navigate the maze' how else do you think you're going to get out of here?"

"I hadn't thought about it. Couldn't you just magic me home? I'll wake up from this nightmare?"

"I'm afraid poiting you back Aboveground is not an option.* I seem to have found that being trapped in a mirror renders my powers somewhat limited. I can give you advice, but I'm not going to actually be able to change anything for you. You've nearly pushed me out of existence the way it is. It's a horrible blow to my ego, I know. I can't imagine what the goblins will think." Jareth seemed to ponder for a moment, shuddering a bit. "I haven't been gone no more than two weeks and already things out there are starting to decay. Breaking down any wall is a dangerous thing in my Labyrinth, but with the fourth wall being broken... What ever baggage you have..." Jareth trailed off lost in thought, deciding it was better not to give voice to his fears, he began again sharply. "Well at the very least you should take some of those crystals on the desk, they'll come in handy, normally you could use them to talk to me, but right now you'll need a mirror for that. There's a few in my bureau I'm sure. Oh, and I'm serious about you wearing that coat. Jareth pointed at David and the jacket he was half sitting on. "That is my Universe Coat. Very powerful. Very fashionable." He smirked, "I think it likes you. It's absolutely begging to be worn."

"You, you're completely serious?" David picked up the coat he'd been sitting with and really looked at it. The velvet was so dark he felt like he was looking into a void. Glitter from his handling mixed with the stars, seeming to give motion to the cosmos within the Universe Coat. David stood and shrugged into the coat. It fit him as if it were especially tailored for his narrow back, the white cuffs of his shirt poked out from the sleeves and his shirt tales slipped out from the bottom framing the picture in white. He also took the time to adjust the setting on his belt cinching his baggy pants a little tighter around his hips, and re-buttoned his shirt to his collarbone. "Can I see again?" He asked the mirror softly. Jareth said nothing slipping beneath the surface leaving David's own improved image in his wake. His face appeared even more pale as the black provided a stark contrast to his wane pallor. If it wasn't for the sun streaks in his hair he might have even been taken for one of those new-fang-led sparkly vampires all the little girls were reading about these days. He chuckled to himself at the pun in his thoughts. "I could get used to this, if it weren't for all the glitter." He said to his image before it started to melt away. Jareth resurfaced moments later with a smirk on his face.

"Our fans don't do anything without copious amounts of glitter. You'll get used to it." Jareth looked smug, almost protective of the glitter. He would be, unbeknown-st to Mr. Bowie, Jareth's special blend of magical glitter was nothing less than tiny specks of precious and semi precious stones, everything from diamonds and emeralds to hematite and topaz, the physical after effects of powerful magic. The simple fact that David was shedding the stuff like an owl sheds it's feathers was proof positive of the enormity of the spell used to bring him kicking and screaming into the Underground. "Now, get those crystal balls. I've got a sack somewhere."

David looked around the room. Hanging from the the only chair pushed to the work table was a worn black leather satchel. David did as he was told and placed six balls into the bag. They each made delicate clinking sounds as they nestled against each other.

"What about these maps?" David asked looking the table over. Detailed renditions of the Labyrinth were skillfully drawn on several large pieces of parchment. The twists, turns, puzzles and pits exactly noted in intricate detail. The sheer enormity of the task impressed upon David's mind. He could sit for hours at the piano or guitar working out detailed melodies woven and rewoven to create beautiful songs that touched millions of lives, but he couldn't imagine having the patience to draw the same thing over and over day after day.

"They won't do you any good." Jareth stated as a matter of fact. "They're all different. I'd suggest you take the latest one, but I've been trapped for a few weeks waiting for you to arrive, and if it hasn't already changed without my guidance it's bound to once you get inside."

"They're all different?" David marveled at the maps, looking more at them a little more closely. The changes were subtle in some and drastic in others. "Does it change every time you draw it, or do you make these to reflect the changes? All the joy you must see with your architects eyes."

Jareth smiled at his comment. "That's the first smart thing you've asked so far Mr. Bowie. For the most part it changes when I direct it to, but as with anything imbued with an unquantifiable amount of magic, it does sometimes spontaneously pop things out on it's own. Especially when I'm distracted or sleeping. Which is why you shouldn't trust my maps. Come over here and find a mirror in my vanity. You can use it to call me."

David cautiously approached the table under Jareth's menacing gaze. He pulled the top most drawer of the vanity open and was slightly bemused by the contents. Jareth, King of the Goblins, owned more makeup than a teenage girl. sticks of kohl, numerous containers of eyeshadow, an eyelash curler, even several tubes of lipstick. David riffled through the mess, eventually he found a solid gold compact. Flipping it open he saw that it contained shimmering face powder on one side and a small round mirror on the other. Feeling the humor of the the situation, and noticing that Jareth had his arms crossed and was pointedly not looking at him, he smiled mischievously.

"Kirk to Spock," he spoke into the compact. "Captains log twenty-twenty-twenty. Am... stranded... on... strange planet... All... the men... here... own... make-up." David chuckled doing his very best Shatner impersonation. Jareth scowled.

"If you are quite finished!" He huffed.

"Scotty!... Beam... me up. Maximan Warp!"

"This is no time for jokes!" Jareth shouted. "You really should be on your way. You've a long way to go and time is short."

Jareth was having trouble keeping his cool. Two and a half weeks ago he'd woken up to find himself trapped between worlds. He could gaze into his mirror and see that he wasn't present in his reality. In essence, his essence was stuck in his chamber, limited to the space reflected by his vanity. 'Oh the irony.' Never one to sit idle, he had turned to his bookshelf looking for answers only to find that everything he tried to read appeared in mirrored reverse script. It was damned annoying and hurt his head when he tried to read. After days of attempting to cipher and coming up with precious few answers he had grown ever more frustrated though not quite giving up. He waited, something, he knew was bound to happen. He had discovered how truly limited his powers were when he had tried calling up a crystal to view his kingdom. At first he thought nothing had happened. Then, he happened to glance at what should have been the reflection of an empty room, only to see the dirty interior of a goblin abode. He was looking out of someone elses mirror. He had even tried to talk to the little goblin family, but they could not see him. Jareth, had been momentarily heartbroken, but he continued to watch the abode in the days that passed. It was better than pacing, and he loved his subjects, their antics never ceased to amuse him. Now his mirror was full with a face that was quite, but not quite, his. It was unnerving, even for the most steadfast King.

David, seeing that his other self was not amused by his little joke, whispered softly, "Sorry." He looked at the door to the chamber, then back at Jareth in the mirror. "Which way do I go?" Again Jareth pinched his nose. This time closing his eyes.

"Out the door, down the hall, turn the bend, down the stairs, across the throne room, out the main door, and though Goblin City into Labyrinth. Think you can handle that Space Boy?

"Piece of cake." David practically twittered as he headed towards the door.

Jareth, never one to relinquish the upper hand even against himself, intoned in a loud powerful voice that floated down the corridor as David stepped beyond the room. "You have thirteen hours in which to conquer the Labyrinth and find the entrance, or we're trapped like this forever." The door slammed shut behind Bowie. A cold shiver ran down his spine.

* Poit / Poiting: V. To magically disappear and reappear elsewhere in time, place, dimension. © Paul Taylor, Wapsi Square (.com)

A/N This chapter was brought to you by a really nice picture of Bowie leaning against a brick wall and the video for Thursday's Child.


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